I love this time of year. November brings a sort of stillness and quiet, animals settling in for the winter, people slowing down. (Well. . . they speed back up in December, but then they slow down!)

As Thanksgiving nears, I tend to focus my gratitude in part on seasonal blessings. Focusing is a good thing; it keeps me from going on and on. . . and on and on.

I am grateful for. . .

leaves that change from yellow and flame-colored to old gold and bronze
mist and wind and early morning rain
songs about such, like “In the Early Morning Rain”

a warm, dry place to sleep
fires, candles, blankets, quilts. Oh, and flannel anything (shirts, PJs), sweatshirts when they are new and soft, slipper socks

tomato-based anything: chili, spaghetti, my mother’s vegetable soup
reading in bed, especially mysteries
family coming from out of town to be together
my mother, age 86, and my dad, age 87
my wonderful husband and Ben and Gary, our sons – loved, loved, loved everyday
spiritual blessings
seeing compassion and love, bravery and care
hope. . .for more of these, for all creatures great and small
hope. . . to do better, be better

And last but not least. . . anything pumpkin flavored: pies, muffins, bread, donuts (yes, I found them this year), lattes, soup. . .

“Hurrah for the fun, is the pudding done?                                                                              Hurrah for the pumpkin pie!”                                                                                                       (from “The New-England Boy’s Song about Thanksgiving Day” by Lydia Marie Child)